From a Blossom to a Seed to a Spark of Rebellion
by GinnyRueLover
Summary: Deutzia Ire, a starved 12-year-old from District 11, is reaped for the 36th Hunger Games. Her future is uncertain... and if it stays unwavering, it will be a devastating one. A true story of love, friendship, and loss that will keep you guessing until the very end. Previosly known as the 56th Hunger Games. Had to change it because of chronological order.
1. Reapings of District 11

**1-District 11 Reaping**  
I wake up in District 11. My home. The place where orchards bloom and flowers blossom. However, it is also the place where children are murdered and families are starved because of their ancestor's actions. I prop myself on an elbow and look around. For a moment, I'm baffled why it is so quiet. Saturday mornings just mean more work here. I'm the climber;the nimblest girl to climb to the top of the peach trees and harvest them. Then I realize- it's Reaping day.

I glance around the hut. My little sister, Aster, and my older brother, Weston, are still alseep, as is my mother. My father was killed three years ago in the orchards. We were starving. I was nine. Aster was seven. Weston was eleven. My father tried to smuggle some food back home. He was caught by peacekeepers and was shot. We didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.

Since then, it has gotten easier. After his death, friends spared some friut for us and we managed to get by. Then, Weston entered the reaping and we got some tesserae. This year, Weston is fourteen and is going in seventeen times. I am twelve. I am going in fifteen times.  
I decide to enjoy the peace and quiet. I take the quilt off of my scratchy straw mattress and fold it up.

Before I leave for the meadow for my picnic, I eye myself in the mirror. The regulation navy jumper is too baggy. Even though I have enough to eat, I'm just skin and bones. My frizzy black hair is wild and frames my shy, cocoa colored face. I grin and head out. I look all right. Just as long as I don't run into Kail Coarse. He's in my year at school and we never talk. I just pray he doesn't know I like him.  
I arrive at the meadow and spread my quilt across the soft grass. I break the bread and split the peach. I squeeze it so the sticky juice streams across the brown surface of the loaf. When the peach is withered and dry I take a bite of the bread. It's delicious, as always. We always have peach juice bread on Reaping day. It used to be my father's favorite. We used to eat it as a family. My dad would take the first bite, my mother the second, Weston, the third, me the fourth, and Aster the fifth. Those were my sweet family memories.  
Of course, when my father was killed, these traditions became too painful to continiue. So on Reaping Day, we take our loaf to our own little corner of District Eleven.

After time, the luxurious feeling of happiness and warmth fades. I lie down. I begin to feel fright at my name being called out of the Reaping ball. I imagine our escort,Neeshalla Petrindi, calling my name. But in her foolish Capitol accent, my name won't sound like Deutzia Ire, it'll sound like Dute- zay-ha Ay-r. I envision training in the Capitol with my mentor, who would be Dimaona Whells. I envision my interview with Caeser Flickerman. And lastly, I envision my death, a Career smashing my face with a club. Slitting my throat with a dagger. Shooting me with a bow'n arrow.

I sit up straight, gasping. Calm down, Deutzia, I tell myself. You're not going to be picked.  
I take one last deep breath and pack up my things. Reaping's at two and it's eleven now. My mother would want to dress me up and I want to meet with my best friend, Layma. So I make my way to our hut.

An hour later, my mother has put Weston in a clean dress coat and corduroy pants. Aster is looking precious in a pristine white dress. And my mother has got me to look pretty for once. She calmed my messy hair and dressed me in a light green skirt and a pleated blouse. And we still have an hour and a half before we should arrive at the town square. I decide to just meet Layma later and I curl up under the quilt, stained with peach juice.

The next thing I know, Weston is rousing me. He says it's time to go to the Reaping. I follow him in a daze and after getting my blood taken, I join Layma in the twelve year old group.

"I'm sorry I didn't meet you before Reaping," I confess.

Her eyes widen. "Really? I actually didn't go, Deutzia. I was too wrapped up in..." her voice trails off.

She doesn't have to say it, but I know what she was wrapped up in. She was imagining getting reaped. Her name is in the ball seventeen times, two more than me. Her family's poor too, but I guess poorer than us. We only have four mouths to feed. Layma's family has her mother and father, and her younger siblings, Morlena, Heylin, and Sorline. Including Layma, that's six mouths. Plus, Layma's the eldest and she's the only one eledgable for tesserea. I would give her food if we had any to give.

Neeshalla Petrindi waddles up on stage,and she is dressed in a leather neon pink tunic with stripes of tiger fur on her limbs. As if that could hide the ridiculous layer of fat covering her torso. I feel anger, white hot, at the Capitol. How could they sit by, growing rims of jelly around their body, while the rest of Panem starves to death? Can they not see the deprived bodies of children waiting for their death right in front of their eyes?

Her earrings, feathers the size of her head, sway violently as she toddles to the center of the stage with foot long high heels. She calls out," Quiet please!" and the district immediatly quiets.

"I am pleased to be here in Disrtict 11," She lies. Everyone can tell she's not. "As a reminder of the Dark Days, the annual Hunger Games are held!" She's holding a plastic black rectangle, and she presses a button. The projector lights up and plays a movie that tells the story of Panem. I tune out. I've seen this a million times.

As the video flicks off, my stomach turns over. The girl Reaping's next. Calm, Deutzia, I remind myself. You're not going to get picked! As if that could mask my fear.

Neeshalla slowly walks to the girl's reaping ball. "Girls first!" She trills. Her pudgy fingers scrape a slip of paper out of the ball and I feel like I might faint. Layma's expression mirrors mine.

"Dute- zay-ha Ay-r!"

I freeze. "No," I mutter. "No. No!" My worst nightmare. I remembered dreaming in the meadow. That seemed a lifetime ago. What I had envisioned was my destiny.

"Dute- zay-ha Ay-r?'

Layma gently pats me on the back. Tears are stuck in her lashes. I stumble forward and run to the stage. I want to get this over with.  
"Why, hello!" Neeshalla simpers. As if she won't enjoy watching me die. "You are Dute- zay- ha Ay-r?"

Hearing her say my name is agony. I shake my head. "Deutzia Ire." She titters. What's so funny? She toddles over to the boy's ball. I catch Weston's eye. He looks tormented, beaten down. I can't stand that look on his face any longer. I switch my gaze to Layma. She's crying freely, but silently, tears streaming down her face. I hold her gaze, and she mouths,"I'm so sorry." A tear pricks my eyelid, but I force it back. I look at my mother. Her eyes are vague, and I can feel she's going to faint any moment. She looks at me directly in the eyes, and sends me a message with her heart.

I love you.

Then she faints.

I glance at Aster. Aster, my precious sister who has withstood so much. Aster, who kisses my cheek each night. Aster, who I know will miss me.  
And I'll never see her again. She'll never kiss me good night again. She'll never hug me until I can't breathe again. She'll never tell me she loves me.

Ever again.

I wrench my gaze away from her pleading brown eyes and watch the boys Reaping.

Neeshalla claws a piece of paper in her jewel encrusted hand. She unfolds it and reads aloud,"Kail Coarse."

Kail Coarse. No, no, no. He's mine! I want to die knowing that he has never loved anyone else. But now, I'm going to have to kill him.

And I don't think I'll exactly get his father's approval.

Kail has only taken one step before a boy standing in the fifteen year old section runs into the isle. "I volenteer as tribute," he declares in a deep, solumn voice.

This boy is the same build as Kail. Same chocolaty brown skin and piercing black eyes. Same shaggy black hair. He has to be his brother.  
Kail gratefully takes his place back in the section he came from. His brother ruffles his hair, then walks to the stage. Neeshalla swoops in with a microphine, asking, "Who are you?"

"I'm Emerege Coarse, Kail's brother."

"Of course! You don't want him to have all the glory!"

Uh, glory? No, Neeshalla has everything wrong. This is not about glory, or riches, or fame. It's about love. Taking someone's place, giving up your life to give your brother one more year. One more year he has to battle starvation and Reapings. It's because of their blood and their bond.

But Neeshalla wouldn't understand. You only unsterstand if you've ever loved. Like Emerege. Would I have done that with Aster? Would Layma have done it for Morlena and Sorline? I shake my head, clearing it of the signs that hint at no.

"The two tributes shake hands, please!" announces Neeshalla. I timidly step forward and slide my hand inside Emerege's large, warm one. I'm scared to look up.

After the Reaping, we are ushered into the Justice Building. The room I'm in has so much riches I can't believe I'm actually here. Leather loveseats. Silk pillowcases. Diamond lamps. I inspect the pattern on a velvet armchair and a door opens.

In flies Aster, Weston, and my mother, who must feel well again. Aster wraps her fragile arms around me and refuses to let go. I gently pull her off and we all crowd together on the loveseat. Aster's crying, my mother's crying, I'm crying. Even Weston's letting a couple tears slip out from under his lashes. We're just hugging each other and telling each other how much we love them. I take a deep breath, just like this morning in the meadow, and pull myself together. Then I talk. I tell them about where my few belongings should go once I'm gone and who should take my job. Weston and my mother should protect Aster with their life and take minimal amounts of tesserae. That last instruction was for my mother's sake. If two of her kids were killed in the Hunger Games, she might not be able to carry on. Then the goodbyes. Weston and Aster hug be fiercly and I kiss them on the nose, right where our father used to kiss our mother. Aster and Weston depart and I'm left wrapped around my mother. Then, she lets go. I cling on for a moment, then I let go too.

"You can win, Deutzia. Your family has faith in you, and you are strong and confident and beautiful. If... you... do-don't make it out of there..." My mother breaks down at this part and I squeeze her tightly. She looks up, determined to finish this sentance. "Just know that your family loves you." A Peacekeeper enters the room and ushers her away. She doesn't resist, she just gives me a small wooden box. Then she's gone and I'll never see her again. I'll never hear her laugh again. I'll never feel her warm embrace again. I'm about to start sobbing, but the door creaks open again.

Layma shyly walks in. She's alone. I had expected maybe her whole family, but I prefer it this way. We don't say anything. We just fly into each other's arms. We stay like that for a while, and then she breaks it off and stares into my eyes with a strange intensity.

"Deutzia, you can win," she tells me. It's not a question, it's a fact. According to her.

I shake my head. "Layma, you know I can't."

"Yes, you can. What's your stregnth?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I'm fast, I guess, and I can climb trees."

She claps her hands together. "There! Run from the bloodbath, hide in a tree, and just stay there 'til everyone else dies!" She grins, a lighthearted grin like before. Before her best friend was chosen to be slaughtered by other children.

"One more minute," the Peacekeeper calls from the doorway.

I hug her with all my might. "Friends?" she whispers in my ear.

"Forever," I reply into her soft brown hair. Then she's gone.

I sit in the armchair, playing with the hem of my skirt. All of my visitors are gone. I jump when the door creaks open.

In walks Kail. I brush some of my scraggly hair out of my eyes. Standing up, I say in what I think is a neutral tone,"Hey, Kail."

"Hey," he answers in a low voice. He sits down on the loveseat and I sit next to him. My heart rate speeds up, wondering if he'll say what I would to him.

"Listen, Deutzia,"he continues."My brother's going to the arena, too. Emerege. I know that only one person can escape alive, but I'm here to ask for a favor."

I hold his gaze, serious.

"So can you please not be the one to kill him?"

My heart sinks. I feel so dissapointed and like a fool. But for Kail's sake I nod. "Of course, Kail."

"Thanks," he says, his voice rough. As the same Peacekeeper tells us one more minute, I look into his intense black eyes. His eyes tell the story his mouth will never get the Peacekeeper ushers him out, he has the same look in his eyes like my mother's after I was reaped. Not vague.

Loving.


	2. Reaping Recap

**2-Reaping Recap**

In the train station, I wave goodbye to my distrct, trying to hide my true feelings. I board the train, and as soon as I'm on the train I ask Neeshalla where my room is.

"It's the last car to the left, dear," she instructs. "But be back at five. We're having a feast!"

I find my way to the last car and plop myself on the bed. I strip my clothes off and lie on the floor in my underclothes. I fling open the closet and gasp. Every fabric, every color, every size of clothing you could ever want was in here. I walk around the closet, which is the size of a room, and pick out a pair of pants. Thay're wierd, stretchy but denim patterned. I only know denim because our overalls are made out of the stuff. I lie it on my bed. I choose a shirt, flowing and royal blue. It has sparkles stitched into it. It exposes my underarms when I try it on even though the sleeves go down to my elbows. I like it even though it would be frowned upon at home. It's liberating. I set it on the bed along with the pants and go into the bathroom to wash up.

I've never taken a shower before. We never have hot water and this feels like perfection. I just stand there for a while, then I find a square cloth and some gel. On the tube its in it reads- Body Wash. I squirt a generous proportion onto it and slather myself with it. Then I wash my hair with some other type of gel and a creamy looking substance called conditioner. It makes my wild black hair sleek and shiny. I twist it into a bun and step out of the shower onto a fuzzy pink mat. I dry myself with a towel and dry my hair with a tube called a blow dryer. It produces jets of steaming air and instantly dries my head.

I put on the clothes I picked out and looked in the bottom rack of the closet for shoes. I find a pair of boots the same color as my skin. Inside it feels like patting a puppy. I slip them on and fold up my skirt and blouse.

As I fold the skirt, something falls out of the pocket. It's the wood box my mother gave me. I open it and inside is a silver anklet. It's thick, like a cuff, made of metal. Inscripted on the inside is four names. Seemaya. Peonie. Andromedia. Deutzia.

Well, I'm of course Deutzia. My mother's name is Andromedia, even though she's prefered to be called Andra. I'm pretty sure her mother is Peonie. So that must mean that Seemaya is my great grandmother. This anklet must be part of our family. This is my district token. I slide it on and join the rest of my team for dinner.

Sitting at the glass table is Neeshalla, who's downing an elegent cup of red wine. Emerege. He's staring blankly at the table top. And the mentors, of course. Dimaona Whells is in her late fiftees. She's healthy, unlike many other victors. She's trying to make polite conversation with Hollan Emme, the other mentor. Hollan would be Emerage's mentor and Dimaona is mine. As I join, Neeshalla brightens. "Ah, very well,"she calls to the server. "Time to eat!"

The meal comes in courses. Oysters in spicy sauces. I think they are slimy and gross, but Emerege loves them. A soup comes out, and Neeshalla haughtily informs me it's called cream of potatoe. I eat a small bowl of it. Hollan keeps telling us to wait, there's more coming. Then comes something called antipasto, and it's delicious, with vegatables and cheese and meat. Some fish comes next, quail I think it's called, and I can't eat a bite of it. I hate everything fishy. Next it mushrooms, which are great, and then something magical.

Steak.

I've only had it once in my life, one bite, at the celebration of our first victor, which unfortunaly died four years ago. It's rich and juicy, and some parts are fatty and some parts are tender. I keep begging for more, but Neeshalla denies me some, insisting there's even more left to come. Salad comes next, something I've eaten a lot of in my life. I try not to eat it, it would only remind me of home in the most bittersweet way possible. But Dimaona remarks how good it is, so I try some. I hastily excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and I let a few tears leak out. Then, I'm done crying.

When I come back, pudding's being served. It's thin and tastes like vanilla. I love it, and I eat even more of that then steak. After that is nuts, which I eat sometimes at home if I can find them. Boiled acorns are edible. But not as good as salted chestnuts, or chocolate hazelnuts, or peanuts. Cake is next, something I've never had. Something almost as good as pudding. It's thick and sweet. Everyone else at the table hates it, saying it's too sweet. But it's perfect.

After that , we drink coffee. Well, the adults drink coffee. Emerege does too. But I'm given hot chocolate.

Neeshalla gathers us at the television, where we watch the recap of the reapings. Suddenly, I have an idea. Turing, I ask,"Neeshalla, do you have any paper and pen?"

She nodds and bustles out of the room. A moment later, she's handing me a large noteook with real rubies encrusted on the front. I roll my eyes but accept it. These Capitol people are so wasteful and arrogent. I take notes as we settle down.  
"District One!" yells the announcer. I watch as a young girl, about my age, get called, but she's quickly replaced by an older girl. I get ready to jot some information down.

"What's you're name?" the escort, Eta Clackmann, asks.

"I'm Silk Traina," the girl bellows. "I'm seventeen years old!" A cheer goes up.

"Why did you volenteer?"

Silk has large, undeniably unattractive features. Her mousy brown hair is swept into a ponytail over her large shoulders. But her eyes, they are the color of ice.

She glares at a group of people standing in the back. "To prove my family wrong," she answers. The woman looks exactly like her and the man has the same eyes. "I can win, even though I'm a girl!"

They smash cut to the boy's reaping. Eta calls,"Cream Horan!"

Suddnely, calls of volenteers begin. Cream waves them away, grunting, "No." By the time he's at the stage, Eta's looking pretty frightened. Not that I blame her. Cream actually looks like he would kill someone right now. He's short, but he's muscular. His biceps are the size of Emerege's fists. On top of that, he looks angry. I shudder. That guy doesn't just scare me; he gives me the creeps.

"How old are you?" Eta asks timidly, like she's afraid to uspet him.

"Eighteen."

Silk and Cream shake hands, sharing evil grins. Then the District One Reapings finish.

In District Two, a girl named Coriander Withheld is called and she denies volenteers. Then a boy, his name is Alo Ritz, volenteers. Coriander looks about 17 and Alo says that he's 18. When asked to shake hands, they kiss instead, not on the cheek but full on the mouth. They grudgingly admit to being a couple.

District Three. Lilac Arlessniss, about fourteen, actually passes out from shock when her name is called. Emso Jamison, sixteen, is called. When Lilac is brought to the stage on a stretcher, he smirks. I jot down a note not to alliance with Emso Jamison. I notice Sabilla Nairne, the escort, elbows him and tells him to be kind. At least he's getting reprimanded.

District Four is the last Career district. Lartius Opps, the escort, screams out," Ria Corma!" in his silly accent. It sounds like Di-ah Coh-mah. I'm actually giggling, and so's everyone else, except Neeshalla. Ria's thirteen and doesn't accept volenteers. Dimwit. Then a boy,Odin Samos, is reaped, but it sounds like,"Ho-deen Sah- mos." I'm literally laughing so hard I'm shaking, and even Neeshalla allowed a curt smile. Odin is sixteen, and again waves away volenteers.

In District Five, Frostine Malene's name makes me want to laugh. Who would rhyme their kid's name? Even the escort, Otili Keene, bites her purple lips to keep from snickering. She's about my age and I feel bad once I realize that. She sort of looks like Layma. She would have been my friend. But if I make a realationship with her, one or both of us is going to die and we'll feel awful. Her district partner, Hoyan Ogilby, is fifteen. I can't help realizing that the girl is twelve and the boy is fifteen in both District Five and Eleven.

District Six. Theta Goldwarden is eighteen, but looks younger. She's obviusly well fed, so I have no clue why she looks so small. Well, just one less real competitor. Her partner, Majoris Yule, is thirteen and looks roughly the same size. Even the escort, Runyan Batar, seems puzzled.  
In District Seven I'm getting a pretty good view of the real competitors. Until Damia Forfaign is reaped. She's the size of her male mentor, Roberto Calry! Her partner even seems intimidated. Forlin Corset is not a force to be reckoned with. He's only fourteen, and he's underfed.

District Eight doesn't bring any surprises. Parrie Fairbain is fifteen and Jardic Cloreen is the same age. I yawn, and Hollan looks over, grinning and looking drowsy himself.

District Nine. Kalmina Grimmen is sixteen, and seems to have a crush on her seventeen year old partner, Wymonni Horhalle. Emerege and I 'ooh' at the screen. Neeshalla turns and idly remarks,"One day you're going to fall in love." I try to ignore the fact my face is turning red.  
District Ten. One more until me! I take messy notes on Maybeth Alrin, fourteen, and Frocker Jennidy, seventeen.

District Eleven! I watch, spellbound, as our town square is showcased. But I quickly feel sadness at what I'll never see again. As "Deutzia Ire" rushes up to the stage, I feel as if I'm watching strangers. Kail is reaped, and Emerege takes his place. I bury my face in my hands. It was a mistake to watch this. Hollan is blank, and Dimaona is blinking rapidly.

"One left,"Neeshalla urges me. So I sit for District Twelve. Nothing much, just an eighteen year old starved girl, Calla Blitzle, and a boy who looks like her, Coxcomb Armitch. He's fourteen.

Back in my bed, I'm in fuzzy pajamas, reviewing my notes. So far, the only real competidors seem to be Silk Traina, Cream Horan, Coriander Withhold, Alo Ritz, Odin Samos, and Damia Forfaign. But will that change? A lot can happen in training, parades, and of course... interviews.

**Sorry this chapter's kind of short! I promise to have Chapter Three up in a week! (Sneak Peek- Emerege and Deutzia arrive in the Capitol and go in the tribute parade!) Please review! Even one will put a smile on my face!**

**From,**

**Cassie**


	3. A New Alliance

3-The Tribute Parade I awake with fuzzy blankets wrapped around me like a cacoon. I realize what happened yesterday and feel sick. I pad to the bathroom for a sip of water, and realize it's late. I slide on a dress made entirely out of white wool and the boots I had yesterday. I also put on the anklet. The dress feels like a heating pad on my cold skin. I walk into the dining car. The only other one there is Dimaona. "Hello", I acknowlage her. She's staring out the window eating a plate of eggs. I register and she smiles serenley. Then she pats the chair next to her. "Why don't you get some breakfast,"she suggests warmly. "Then we can talk some strategy. We won't have a lot of time once we get into the Capitol." I nod and head towards the buffet table. I take an omelette, which I've had once or twice, and a cup of something called yogurt. It's creamy and tastes like fruit. I also grab a piece of bread with butter smeared on it. I walk back to the table, careful not to spill anything. The first thing I eat is my bread. Yum. "So what are you good at?" Dimaona asks question sounds familiar but I don't know why. "Well,"I stutter. "I'm really fast. I work in the orchards farthest from home, and we stop working when the sun goes down. We only have five minutes to get from work to home." They stopped letting District Eleven citizens out after dark after a riot eight years ago. But surely Dimaona knows that. Still, I keep talking. "I run about a half mile in five minutes. I can climb trees. I can outsmart my opponents." Dimaona is smiling. "Yes, I'm sure you can outwit the Careers. None of them seemed very smart." I nod. "Except maybe Silk Traina. But even she seemed more brawns than brain." Dimaona has a large posterboard in front of us and a simple black marker. She draws a huge rectangle. "Say this is the arena. North is a lake. South is the woods. West is a field. East is a desert. Where do you go?" I have to think about this. "Well, I would head North first to collect water," I admit. "Then I would head South. But I would have to go through the Cornucopia. Oh, wait! I would head to whatever direction I'm closest to and then work my way to my destination, hidden by the biome." Dimaona flashes me a thumbs up. "Exactly. Now let's talk Cornucopia. What do you do?" "Run!" I reply immediatly. From a lifetime of watching the Hunger Games I know who ever goes into the Cornucopia is a goner. She ponderes. "We-ell," she says apprehensively, "You do need some supplies to survive. Plus, if your strategy is to hide in a tree, you can't exactly make a fire or hunt. I say go in about seven, maybe even eight yeards and grab a pack, then run." I agree. "Just one thing. Where are Emerege and Hollan and Neeshalla?" "Emerege and Hollan are in the living room car, doing the same thing as us. Neeshalla's probably arranging sponsor deals or something of the kind for us to close." Suddenly, we emerge out of the tunnel we've been in for a couple moments. I leap up, stare out the window, and gasp. The Capitol looks like a fairy world! A bunch of people are crowded against the windows, and screaming. They probably think they're looking at the first kill. I grit my teeth and start too wave. After all, these are my sponsors. I instantly hear things like," Omigosh, she's so adorable!""I feel so bad for that baby girl!" I nearly stamp my foot in frustration. I yank my hair out of my pigtails and I wrap it around my head. Since the shower last night made it sleek and shiny, it frames my face perfectly. I toss my head back and stand up straighter. I give a haughty wave, unsmiling, and glamourous. The reaction is immediate. I begin to hear things such as,"Ooh, she's got additude!""What a force to be reckoned with!" I allow my face a small, satisfied smile. I turn and see Dimaona smiling gently. "Sorry," I say softly. "I totally forgot about strategy." She tousels my hair. "It's all right, Deutzia. I'm just glad you know how to work the crowd. That's the second most crucial part of the Games." I'm in the Capitol, with my prep team surrounding me. Lying on a table with only a towel covering my backside, I feel slightly embarrased to be naked. "We need to even out her skin tone," Ilanna, one lady on my team, mutters. She has green hair and red eyes. Emerelds are her eyebrows. "Make it lighter?" "Of course?" answers Cramer. He only talks in questions? It's annoying, but at least he doesn't look like a human mine. However, his skin is dyed purple. "And paint her nails," adds Crystal. She's the only one who is nice. She looks normal and she talks sweetly, so she's my favorite. Within an hour, my skin is lighter, my hair is untangled, my nails are hot pink, my skin is unblemished, and my eyelashes are so long it takes me twice as long to blink because I have to untangle my lashes. It's aggrivating. They pull the towel off of me and take me into a shower. I'm cold and on top of that humiliated. I'm scrubbed so hard I'm stinging, and tears force themselves out of my eyes. If only my mother was here. She would soothe me and protect me. "But she's not," I tell myself. "You get what you get. So be strong. For your family and Kail." I sigh and let Ilanna, Cramer, and Crystal beautify me. When they're done I look nothing like myself. I look like a movie star. Or maybe the winner of a beauty pagent. They dress me in a simple grey tunic and I wait on the table for my stylist. They bid me good day and leave. I didn't know what to expect for my stylist, but I certainly didn't expect Marisol Farima. She's young, twenty at oldest, and doesn't look like a normal Capitol citizen. Her shiny black hair seems natural. She's pretty and doesn't seem to use any makeup. "Hey, I'm Marisol. Marisol Farima. I'll be your stylist," she greets me softly. I smile faintly. I feel the urge to wrap my arms around myself as she gently takes my tunic off. She sizes up my body. You can easily count my ribs and I have literally no excess fat on me. She clothes me once more and we are ushered into a small room high above the city. A feast, like the one on the train, is served. A whole ham. Too many cheeses to count. Wine. I don't drink it. Grapes and blueberries. And for desert, some pumpkin pie. I ate pumpkin at home, but this is thick filling inside flaky bread. It's all right. I don't eat much. My breakfast filled me up. "So you're from District Eleven, agriculture?" Marisol asks me. I nod, finishing my water. "I have the perfect costume for you," she replies, the first smile from her blooming on her face. She vanishes, and comes back with a huge garment bag. It's made of black plastic so I can't see through it. "Take your tunic off and close your eyes," she tells me. She's excited. I uncomfortably unbutton my clothes and I feel a stretchy fabric, but it's soft like Marisol's voice. I open my eyes. "Wow." Marisol looks thrilled when she notices my awestruck expression. My skin-tight jumpsuit is golden colored and refelects the blinding white lighting of the room. Fruits and vegtables are emblazed on it. An apple on my chest, a broccoli stalk on my leg, a turnip on my arm. They are tasteful and appropriate. My shoes are simple black boots and they go up to my knees. I look up and meet her dark eyes. "Thank you." That night, I am in my chariot stading to the right of Emerege. He is dressed in the exact outfit as me. However, I notice his skin was toned darker and mine lighter. I wonder the reasoning. I take a deep breath. I'm ice cold and scared to death. What if the Capitol hates me? I'll die! Emerege notices me panting, frightened, and wraps my cool hand in his warm one. I look up, astonished. "It's gonna be all right, Deutzia," he promises me. "You look amazing. They'll love you." I smile faintly. "You look amazing too, Emerege," I admit. "Thanks for... you know." "No problem," he answeres, a sad smile on his face. He's probably thinking of how we'll probably end up dead in a few weeks. And me? I'm thinking about Emerege. He's a mystery. He was quiet and blank the first few days, but now I think of him as an older sibling, or maybe a parent. Someone to protect me. It's stupid, I know, considering the odds of one of us emerging from that arena alive. I wipe my brain clear of any more thoughts that morbid. Emerege's stylist, Dorian, I think his name is, pops out of nowhere and grins. His hair has real flowers that seem to be growing, and his suit is orange and magenta. His eyes are different colors and his skin is milky white. "Stand up straighter, Emerege!" he squawks. "Rock that jumpsuit!" Then he's gone again. Not a moment later Marisol walks towards us. "You look beautiful, Deutzia," she proclaims. "So do you, Emerege." Then the parade begins. I watch in the giant TV backstage. Silk and Cream are dressed in luxorius dresses and suits, to represent District One, the luxury supplies district. Silk's dress is emerald green and has feathers everywhere. Cream's suit consists of black pants, black jacket, and a sparkily green shirt underneath. Feathers are in his hair. He looks awful, but Silk, I hate to admit, looks great. The announcer, Darcy Coddins, who's a middle aged man, calls,"And there goes Silk Traina and Cream Horan! Next up are Coriander Withheld and Alo Ritz of District Two!" Coriander and Alo are dressed in grey tunics like the one I wore during prepping. It has patterns of cobblestone all over it. I became slightly dizzy at the intricate but hypnotic design. Well, that made sense. District Two's masonry. In District Three, Lilac, the girl who fainted, is dressed in a silver dress. Emso, the one who smirked, is in a silver suit. Each of them has hundreds of tiny buttons on them and an incredible amount of flashing lights. It must have taken a lot of technology to make that, since District Three is technology. "Oh! Lilac Arlessness and Emso Jamison awe the audience! Coming around the corner here we have... DISTRICT FOUR! Ria Corma and Odin Samos!" Ria, that thirteen year old, and her disrict partner Odin, look beautiful. Well, Odin is handsome. Ria is dressed in a scarlet bikini and Odin has a pair of tight swim trunks. That's all they have on, not even shoes. Well, not counting jewelry. Pearls. Pearls everywhere. Pearl necklaces, earrings, bracelets, anklets, and crowns. District Four's industry is fishing. District Five is solar power. Evey year I have felt bad for that stylist who had that district. I would have never known what to do. When Frostine, the 'Rhyming Girl' and Hoyan Ogilby take the stage, I just feel blown away. Because never, in a million years, would I have guessed this costume. They both have jumpsuits that are brightly lit, all around. Exactly like the sun. I feel baffled for a moment, then realize it's the sun. Solar Power! Whoever their stylist is is genius. And apparently Darcy Coddins does too. "Incredible! Simply unbelievable! What wit! Frostine and Hoyan of the solar power district... are the Sun! Well, next up we have District Six! What did they dream up?" Theta, the tiny girl, and Majoris, her partner, of District Six pale in comparison to Five. I mean, I know they're from the transportation district, but really? Wings? As if they could fly anywhere. Besides, these wings couldn't go anywhere. They're made of metal. Emerege gives a tiny snort and I roll my eyes. District Seven isn't any better. Damia, the mostrosity, and Forlin, are trees. Big surprise. This is the sixteenth year in a row that's happened. Lumber is the industry, but sometimes I feel like I could come up with better costumes. "Trees! Of course! Again, a classic example of lumber!" Darcy's feeling are the same as mine, even though he's too kind to show it. "District Eight! Textiles! What did the sylists of Parrie Fairbain and Jardic Cloreen do do make their clothing stand out?" Parrie, the girl, has a dress made of patchwork on. Pink leather, green velvet, purple wool, white gauze... any fabric anyone could ever dream is there. The same goes for Jardic, who has a jumper instead of a dress on. If I had to pick a district to style, Eight would be the one I'd go with. It's easy. Anyine who knows what pants and a shirt is could get that job. District Nine is wheat. Usually the tributes are dressed up as loaves of bread and it's pathetic. But this year they have unitards with the simple pattern of grain on it. And if it wasn't clear enough, they have huge hats, sombreros I think it's called, on, and grain is scattered in just the right amounts on the brim. "Perfect! An elegent row of wheat on the jumpsuits! Kalmina Grimmen and Wymonni Horhalle certainly got great stylists!" A cheer goes up. "And now, the tributes of District Ten... livestock!" I know no district is perfect on the Tribute Parade, but Ten is downright scary. Maybeth Arligne and Frocker Jennidy have white aprons on and they're splattered with blood. Presumibly from cows. Frocker looks intimitading, but nothing can make blonde Maybeth Arligne, fourteen, frightning. Or maybe the stylists planned it that way. Then suddenly, our horses clip-clop down the cobblestone streets. I catch one last glimpse of myself in the screen, and all of Panem's eyes are on us. Emerege and Me. Emerege and Duetzia. I take a deep breath and make sure my hair is on both shoulders. Then I stand up straight, like this morning on the train, and wave. Just how Crystal instructed. The "Princess Wave". I pretend to screw in a light bulb and I smile. The crowd goes almost as wild as my hair is normally and screams,"Deutzia! Deutzia! Deu-tzi-a!" I ham it up, blowing kisses and fluttering my abnormally long eyelashes. A rose lands at my feet and I scoop it up. I tuck it behind my ear, and I can see Marisol from here. She gives me a grin and mouths,"Perfect." I call,"I love you!" to the general direction of the thrower. The shouts for me are deafening. I feel like my face is going to split in two. Then suddenly, I'm in front of President Snow's Mansion and the crowd is screaming, "Ca-lla! Cox-comb!" Those are the names of the District Twelve tributes. I look over at Emerege. He's behaving like a normal tribute, waving but not being a ham like me. "Sorry for taking your spotlight," I confess. He bursts out laughing. "Taking it away? You did me a favor, Deutzia. I hate the spotlight on me. Without you, they'd see how surly I get when a crowd's on me." I smile back. I'm just glad I'm not known as a hog of spotlight. "Thanks." I whirl around to see what District Twelve's costumes are. Coal Mining is their specialty, so they're dressed in awful miner's costumes. Just like last year. And the year before. No surprise. President Snow emerges on the balcony. "Welcome," he says in his dramatic, deep voice. "To the thirty- Sixth annual HUNGER GAMES!" The Capitol goes wild. But the tributes don't do a thing because they know what it means for them. After the parade, we are ushered to our floor. There's a story for each district. Since we're Eleven, we're on the eleventh floor. We're the last ones to go up, not counting District Five. Neeshalla, Emerege, Hollan, Dimaona, Marisol, and Dorian go in the elevator along with most of Five. Since the elevator's full, I have to go on the next one with Frostine. When we board, I go to one corner and she goes to the other. It's a little awkward, so I try to make conversation. "Hi, I'm Deutzia Ire. Who're you?" As if I don't know. She looks up and gives me a ghost of a smile. "Frostine Malene. You can start laughing now." I don't, of course. "Your costume was excellent. You were the sun?" She nods, this time a real grin. "Yeah. Solar power. I loved yours, though. Agriculture? I could see the pictures on the suit all the way from the President's mansion." I cock my head, mystified. "You could? How di-" I look down, following Frostine's finger. The embloms are glowing! "Wow," I murmur. Frostine nods, giving an approving smile. "You remind me of my best friend back home, Layma," I confess. She does. Not just the looks, the smile's the same, the dry humor's the same, and her tendency to notice things is the same. Frostine raises her eyebrows. "Really? You remind me of my best friend, Anenome." I shrug. "Maybe it's a sign we're made for each other." She nods thoughtfully. "Yeah. After all, we were reaped, the same age, same year." A thought occurs to me. "Hey, you wanna be allies in the arena?" I crack up. Because just as I said that, Frostine decided,"We should be allies once the Games start." We nod and shake hands, grinning. "Just one thing," I say. "Don't tell anyone. We'll be frowned upon." She agrees, then she's on the fifth floor and I'm zooming towards the eleventh, not sure if I should be glad I've got an ally, or sad one or both of us will be dead soon. Hey! It's Cassie! Please review if you liked my story! If you didn't then... don't review please! :D I'll post a trivia question after every update and the first to answer correctly in reviews gets to pick the date the next update is due! Ok... In Book #1 (Hunger Games) What brings Katniss to her senses when Prim is reaped? Talk 2 ya soon! xoxoxoxo- Cassie 


	4. Nothing's Impossible

Nothing's Impossible

Something I loathed in Eleven was weeding. Every Tuesday, we weeded the gardens. Everyone. In the entire district.

But when you're weeding people, picking out the ones who are true threats and the ones that are not, things are different.

That's when things get...

Sad? Yes. Boring? Yes. Scary? Yes.

Don't get me wrong... it's not scary because all of these people are plotting to murder you. It's scary because it makes you feel like you have no regard for human life. No feelings for the deprived mothers that will be weeping because the only person they care about was killed. No feeling like you deserve to keep living.

And that's the scariest part.

TRAINING- DAY ONE

I am roused by Ilanna, Cramer, and Crystal at six in the mornning. Cramer and Crystal whip off my comforter and Ilanna prods me until I grunt," It's too early... Let me sleep..."

"No can do?" Cramer cheerily squeals. "You have, like, a full day of training in front of you?"

Suddenly I'm wide awake. I shoo my prep team out of my room and dress in the tight, black spandex suit hanging in the closet. In the back is the number 11. I glare at in distaste. They only catorgorize us by number. No names, no acknowlagement, no feelings for us, the people who will die for their entertainment. I resist the urge to tear the dreaded number out with my teeth and instead go into the dining room.

Ilanna, Cramer, Crystal, Marisol, Emerege, Dimaona, and Dorian are sitting at the chrome table, eating silently. I load my plate with eggs, bread, friut, and ham, but Dimaona catches me and makes me throw away half of my plate, so I won't cramp during training. It's amazing the things they will waste. I stonily find my seat and angrily chomp on my blueberries.

Half past six, Neeshalla escorts us to the Training Center. Everyone's already there, except the pair from 1, Silk and Cream. Everyone turns as the doors on the other side of the chamber slide open and the 1 tributes walk in, firmly separated by Peacekeepers. They keep trying to throw punches at each other or yank the other one to the floor.

It sickens me how they are so eager to get rid of their partner, but in a deep part of me, I'm ashamed to be glad they won't be focused on me... or Frostine... or Emerege.

Atala, the Head Trainer, starts us off. I immediatly find Frostine sticking close to the wall. We join forces as Emerege goes off to light a fire.

"What do you want to do?" I ask politely. I can't afford to tick off one of the two people who will protect me. The other is Emerege.

She seems to be thinking along the same lines as me, so she lifts a fragile shoulder. "I dunno."

"How about spear throwing?" I suggest. We head off to the station. I'd expect it to be swarming with arrogent Careers, but it's empty, surprisingly. The trainer lights up as we approach.

"Hey," she gives us a cool flick of her shining black hair. "I'm Beyla. Wanna chuck some spears?

"

She says it in an easygoing way, but I can tell she thinks this is really crucial. As if. But I have time. We nod and she sets us up with some practice spears. They are bronze and as tall as us.

Frostine goes first, and she misses by a mile. It wedges itself in the back of a dummy used for knife throwing, which is going on right in front of us. She clears her throat and insists she was aiming for that, but anyone can see she wasn't.

I furrow my brow. My turn. I squint at the target. I send a silent prayer, hoping I wouldn't fail, and extend my arm. The spear embeds itself in the centermost red ring, and I gasp. Beginner's luck isn't just a tale... it's got to be real. How else did that happen?

But I don't feel like celebrating. Because the Careers are flanking me, with Alo and Cream in the center, Silk and Coriander in the middle, and Damia, Ria and Odin in the back. Damia Forfaign must have already allienced with them. I gulp and lean back.

"How'd ya do that?" Alo Ritz's voice is rough and streaked with envy. I blow some of my forever-frizzy locks out of my face and timidly mumble," Uh... I got, I think, I just... just was lucky." I nibble my nails nervously.

Odin Samos shoves me. "Well, time's up, Nervous Nellie. Cuz it's our time now. The CAREER's time. Get a move on."

I turn to hastily escape and not draw too much attention, but Frostine stays in her place and places her hands on her hips. "Do you want to MAKE us move, guys?"

I cringe. This is NOT good. I grab Frostine's elbow and drags her over to a safe station- ah, the hammock making one. It's blissfully silent there. I pull her down and murmur into her ear,"Do not mess with the Careers. They will mess you up and target you." She gets up and nods.

After that episode, we begin to tie a decent hammock. Put together, our patches make about a foot and a half. Time flew, and soon Lunch is being served by Avox, a concept I've heard about from Hollan. We sit at the end of the table, making small talk. I pick at my rich meat and bread.

"This is luxury," I remark, downing a glass of soda. I've never had sodas before, and it tastes like a milder case of fireworks. Frostine looks up from her dish and smiles. "Were you hungry for a long time?"

I nod. "Too long. My family was starved for about a year, well, until my brother got tesserae. My father..." My face darkens.

Frostine gnaws her lip. "He smuggled food, right? Or tried to?"

My eyes fill and I nod. Then I brush them away. I can't look like a wimp here, in the Training Center. "How'd you know?"

She answers," I've heard stories like that before... so I guessed."

I suddenly feel the need to change the subject. Somewhat. "Have you ever starved?"

She shakes her head gratefully. "Thank goodness. Many in Five starve, even though it's not commonly known. I would be one of those, but my cousin won his games and he provides for us." She ducks her head, as if embarrased to admit that little factoid. "The 22nd."

I sniff. Talking of home is unbearable. "What's our strategy?" I blurt, aware she must know I'm evading the home topic and she'll take the hint.

She does. "Don't get too wrapped up in the Cornocopia," she immediatly states. "Half die that way. Just take what you need and run."

I agree. "Can you climb?"

She tosses her long red hair. "Trees? Gosh, no. I've always tried... my dream job is to repair fallen power lines at home. They get paid a fortune. But I can't get high."

Okay, climbing a tree is out. "We'd need to take refuge," I decide," under a tree or in a cave. Although I'd be too scared to explore a cave... so that leaves under a tree. Preferably a thickly leaved tree."

"We need a signal," she declares after approving my theory. "For where we meet. How about when we see each other in the bloodbath, um..."

"How about this; If we hold up one finger it means west, two north, three east, and four south?" I suggest. She nods, her mouth stuffed with cheese from her sandwich.

As lunch is finished, we decide to ditch the hammock and try the netting stretching across the ceiling. "I got to start somewhere," Frostine reasons. "Plus, it's clear you want to stay off the ground. Frankly, that's a pretty smart strategy." I blush.

I scurry across the room in no time, but Frostine seems to have gained thirty pounds. She struggles with grabbing the ropes and pulling herself across. But even though she's no pro, like me, she'll be alright when the Games begin. If she keeps training.

After about a half an hour, she drops from the netting. We have four hours left. "What can we do?" I ask dully. Outside is glum and grey, and I don't feel like training anymore.

Though, deep inside me, I know I have to.

I've proven my nimbleness, but Frostine hasn't proven her speed and balance. According to her, her job is to carry wires all across Five, which is large. We head to the gauntlet, which is occupied by the District 7 Male and the District 3 Female. I think the boy is Forlin and the girl is Lilac Arlissness, the girl who will forever be known as the tribute who fainted at the Reaping. I feel bad. That couldn't get her sponsors. As we near, they scurry away, casting worried glances at us. No, at me.

"Why did they do that? I mutter to Frostine. "Maybe we should ask them if they want to come back or-"

Frostine holds up her hand. "No. The Games are all about ruthlessness. They are probably scared because of the spearing episode, and that's good. We can't be tender, Deutzia."

Her tone is firm, and I begin to wonder if I'm annoying her. I hastily agree.

The trainer, Cay, is a young man in his twenties. He shows us how to avoid obsticles and keep up speed at the same time. Frostine is fascinated, but I couldn't care less. I daydream, about peach bread and hammocks and HOME. I snap to attention as Cay snaps," Deutzia! Pay attention, young lady." I grudgingly nod.

Then it's our turn. I go first, and as I prepare, a voice floats through my mind. It's like when I'm at school and I don't know the answer to a question, I just hear it. But this voice says," If you wipe out, you will lose all respect you earned from the spearing."

I shudder. As Cay blows his whistle, I stay glued to the spot. He stomps over and growls, "A problem, eleven?"

I shake my head. "N-no sir," I say shakily. "I just need a moment or two to get more ready."

He allowes me a moment and Frostine goes. She's amazing, of course, dodging hurtles and padded clubs and has remarkable speed. That doesn't boost my confidence.

Then it's my turn, and I'm wiping my palms on my Spandex. I'm off when Cay's whistle goes off.

I manage to avoid all the obsticles, but I'm quite slow. The last thing I remember is a trainer swinging a padded club at me for me to duck and everything is black.

I resurface with the ceiling of the training center staring back down at me. Frostine, Cay, and a woman I've never seen before are standing before me. The lady has a name tag that reads "Savera Erwin- First Aid- Training Center".

"Hey," I groan thickly. "What happened?"

Cay answers instantly. "The padded club hit you in the head and you passed out for about 4 minutes. We've had Savera here check you-" he points the woman, who smiles broadly- "And you are in decent condition. Any questions?"

His tone implies disappointment, but I don't care. I don't care that I've disappointed Cay. It's the thought that I disappointed Kail and Layma and my family that makes me shiver.

"Yeah," I say quickly, sitting up. Stars swim before my eyes so I lie back down. "Who saw me?"

"No one," Frostine replies finally. ''You fell behind the highest obsticle, and since you were lying down, you were hidden. Oh, wait, yeah, Emso, the guy from 3, saw you. But it doesn't really matter about him."

She's right. He's so rude he'll never get an ally, so he'll never get to share that tidbit. And even if he dreams of attacking Frostine and I in the arena, it's two against one and he's seen me with a spear. I think I'm safe.

We leave the dangerous gauntlet and spend the remaining three hours at the edible plants section. As we leave, it's five and I'm starving. I bid Frostine a good night and go to floor 11.

TRAINING- DAY 2

"Deutzia, it's not right."

"Then why do I feel like it is?"

"You know the truth about these Games. Only one can win."

"Actually, I am well aware of that."

I'm sitting on my bed in the bedroom, and Emerege is standing with his back against the wall.

I had just woken when I heard the knock. I had let Emerege in, and immediatly he started talking to me about yesterday. More specificaly, the alliance with Frostine that was, according to him, obvious to anyone with eyes.

Wait, did I say talking? I meant REPRIMANDING. As if he's my babysitter. I take a deep breath and say in a calm, steady voice, "Emerege, I KNOW only one can win. And I like Frostine. I want to be friends with her before I'm forced to kill her."

He finally nods.

"Yes!" I cry. Then I lower my voice. "Just don't tell anyone."

He smiles, his dark eyes twinkling. "I won't."

LATER

An hour later, I'm at the bow'n arrow station. Frostine is at my left and the boy from 12, Coxcomb, is at my right. We are all failing miserably.

After an hour, I've managed to send exactly 4 arrows in the general direction of my target. The other 462,573,388 haven't even been loaded correctly. Frostine and I leave the station. It's clear we are making no progress whatsoever and it's not like it's the MOST important survival skill. Sure, it'll do you some good, but not as much as, say, the edibile plants station. After a lot of debating, we choose the fire-starting station next.

Hoyan Ogilby, her district partner, is struggling to light a fire with charred cloth and steel. It looks drastically hard.

"Hello." Frostine acknowlages him with a curt greeting.

"Hi," Hoyan replies briefly. They are both civil but not overly friendly, and it occurs to me maybe the Games would be easier if Emerege wasn't a friend, but a foe. I quickly dismiss the thought. It's bad enough that he's Kail's brother.

A half hour later, a fire made with matches is glowing. It's taken us two hours to light a fire without matches. The flames flicker in the dim lighting.

"The crucial part," insists the instructor," is to extinguish it. Even the tiniest ember can cause huge trouble. It seems easy, but when you're limiting your water or in a rush it's not."

I picture myself trying to put out a roaring blaze as the Careers chase me, out of water. The instructor's right, I had never thought about it that way.

Frostine and I are giving 45 seconds to put it out with only fire-proof cloth. We barely make it, smothering the flame with a fire-proof cloth and stomping on the glowing coals to ensure a forest fire won't suddenly roar. It's lunchtime when we are done.

We retreat to the same table as before, and we are served salad. it doesn't hurt as much as it did on the train, though it is tough to let go of home.

"I wish I brought my notebook," I remark. Frostine eyes me over her water glass. "Notebook?"

"Yeah, I've been taking notes on the tributes. I just wish I could write it all down right now."

She nods encouragingly. "Go get it, Deutz!"

I shrug dubiously. "I have a feeling it's not exactly legal."

She admits," You're right, but you can smuggle it. Just say you want to brush your hair. They've got to let you in."

I nervously walk over to Atala. "Can I go to my room?" I squeak.

Her eagle eyes search me. "What for?"

"I want to comb my hair," I stutter.

She motions for Peackeepers to come. "Dackter, Commor, escort Deutzia Ire to her room."

They flank me as I get into the elevator. "What do I do now? They are going to see me get my notes!" I think. When I get off, I make a beeline for my room in the hopes of grabbing it before they notice, but they are as fast as lighting. I reluctantly pad to the bathroom and retrieve my comb. As I leave, an idea strikes me. I purposely hit the wall, and the comb tumbles out of my hands. As I bend down to retrieve it, I grab the notebook from under the bed, where I've been hiding it, and stuff it down my suit. It's small, 2x3. The rough jewles scrape my chest and I hurry down to the training room.

Only 10 minutes remain. I plop myself down with Frostine and show her the notebook. She has some helpful hints, and I write them down.

"Alo Ritz is the leader of the Careers pack, remember, the boy from 2?" I nod. "And Cream Horan from 1 is always sluggish and slow. Ria Corma, that 13 year old who's from 4 has a large ego, so she's gullible. And the girl from 10-"

"Maybeth Alrin," I interupt.

She blinks. "Huh?"

"The girl from 10 is Maybeth Alrin," I repeat.

She's focused on her little speech again. "Yeah, Maybeth Alrin, she's really weak-willed. I saw her at knife throwing yesterday, and she gave up after one try. It won't take much to break her."

"It won't take much to break her," my brain sings. It echoes in my head. I am astonished to see what the Games can do to us.

"And, Hoyan isn't really a good-" she stops suddenly when she sees my face. "What's up?"

I sigh. "Emerege... well, he cares about me. And if you share Hoyan's secrets, I'd have to share his. And he's so nice, I would hate to... ruin our friendship."

Frostine gently takes the notebook out of my trembling hands. "I know you know this, Deutzia," she whispers, "But you can't have friends in the arena if you aren't allies. It's only going to hurt you if you can't learn to let go."

I've heard this so many times and my eyes are burning. Everything is blurry and wet. All these Hunger Games are is a massacre for entertainment. And we have to pay the ultimate price.

For what? Why us? All these questions swim around in my head and I can't think. Anger, hot and devastatingly blunt, gnaws at the pit of my abdomen. Why do we have to pay for something that happened half a century ago? It's not my fault. And I'm the one who has to give up her life to keep the peace.

But not only me. 23 children every year for 35 years have sacrificed themselves. All those innocent souls. All those depressed families. All those futures that will forever remain unwritten.

After lunch, we finish up our fire training, and we practice the rope course again. It turns out all Frostine needs to learn is where to place her limbs. I drop down from the netting and call up instructions to her.

"Your left leg goes on the rope above the hammock making station," I shout. "And put your hands farther apart... it helps you keep your balance."

It takes two hours for her to finally get across the ceiling. Even though she's made a lot of progress, she still needs to work on speed. But I'm pleased she's willing to try so hard.

"Ugh," she grumbles when she leaps down. "I'm so tired. What should we do now?"

We decide to ask Atala, and she points us to the fishing station. I've never fished before, and neither has Frostine, and she finds it as tough as I do.

We try to make a decent fishhook from a piece of thread, a bobby pin and a band, and it collapses on the floor in a heap. Even when the fishhook is made for us, it seems daunting to attach it to something. The trainer eventually gives us lessons on how to catch fish... and when I manage to grab one, it squirms away and I scream. To add salt to the wound, Ria and Odin from 4 immediatly start to show off. I'm exhausted when we finish.

Frostine and I are thankful to escape the sneering Ria and Odin. As we part, I ask her one last question.

"Frostine..." I hesitate.

She taps her foot impatiently. "Yeah?"

"Is this alliance obvious to anyone you've talked to?"

She shakes her head. "No. I haven't talked to anyone. Not even Hoyan."

"Why?"

Her face turns soft. "Remember lunch?" she pleads. "It's hard for everyone to let go. But it's important." Then she turns and goes and I can't help but notice the tone of defeat in her voice.

She's taking this well. She knows she can't do anything about these unjust Games. Or she thinks.

But I know the truth. The Capitol is cruel and they deserve to fall. And one day, I will be the one to bring them down.

I just have to survive the arena first.

TRAINING- DAY THREE

Yesterday haunts me.

What I have realized, the cruelty of the Capitol and how they have to crumble in my fingers. How Frostine is willing to give up so easily and how I can't seem to figure out a way to bring the Capitol down.

I'm at the sword fighting station with Sirah, an instuctor. Frostine is getting extra help on the ropes course from an instructor. But the sword is too heavy and too violent and keeps slipping out of my grasp.

A little like my life.

I've managed to sever the arms off one dummy and stab another dummy in the stomach. The copper handle rapidly grows slick with my sweaty hands. It clatters to the floor after it slides out of my hands for the fourth time.

Sirah sighs, clearly exasperated. She brightens as Coriander, Silk, Ria, and Damia approach. A quick glance around tells me the boy Careers have retreated to the gauntlet. Sirah looks at them and me, and her decision is clear. She wants to train the Careers.

"Oh..." she pauses, trying to remember my name.

"Deutzia," I finally prompt after an agonizing moment.

"Yes, Teutzia, as you can see, your session is over and now these ladies need a turn. Silk, here, use the gold sword."

I clench my teeth. "First of all, I'm not TEUTZIA. Deutzia. And secondly, I've been here for ten minutes and haven't learned a thing."

Sirah glares. "Fine, DEUTZIA, leave, or do you want me to call the Peacekeepers?"

I back away, letting her know she has won. But to antagonize her even more, I send a message with my eyes- THIS ISN'T OVER.

Unfortunatly, she doesn't even look at me.

At the silent push-ups and sit-ups station, I vent to Frostine about the unfairness of Sirah. She's very sympathetic, nodding and calling her names I can't repeat.

"What do you want to do after this?" she finally asks.

I let my gaze drift wistfully to the right side of the chamber. "Uh... maybe... spearing?" I squeal hopefully.

She nods. "Yeah, whatever. I'm indifferent."

I pump my fist, and after that, we do our exercises in blissful silence. When we finish, I bolt to the spearing station, but three people beat me there. The boy from 6, Majoris Yule, and his district partner, Theta Goldwarden, and the girl from 12, Calla Blitzle. I slump away, defeated. I don't want to have a reputation with any tribute.

"Let's try the knife throwing station," Frostine urges. It's unfathomably empty. I pick a sleek, almost dainty looking knife, and grip it before sizing up the dummy about 30 feet away. But a voice startles me. "Oh, no, wait, wait, wait, HOLD ON!"

I whip my head around and spot a middle aged man running towards us. "Sorry I'm late," he apologizes. "I'm the instructor, Vaiynne." (pronounced Vein)

He teaches us how to grasp it correctly. I squeeze it, and then he shows us how to toss it. I throw it as hard as I can, but it doesn't even come close. Frostine's is a bit better, but still a good ten feet away. I grit my teeth and promise myself to improve on this one.

An hour later, I manage to hit the dummy's head with a knife. All the other ones missed. Frostine's hit it three times, once in the arm, once in the calf, and once in the hand. But mine is more fatal.

Then it's time for our private sessions. This is what I'm really dreading. I haven't even thought about what I'm going to do. Vaiynne gives each of us an unexpected, yet soothing, hug. Out of all the trainers, my favorite is Vaiynne. He's much nicer than Cay or Sirah, and almost as good as Beyla, the first trainer we had, the spearing one.

We are sitting on hard metal benches in a steel hallway, labeled by district. Since it's going to be a while until I'm called. I let my mind drift and I nearly fall asleep. I'm jolted awake by the sound of the rough voice of a Peacekeeper ordering ,"District 11, Male, Emerege Coarse," to the training room.

Fifteen minutes pass, then half an hour. Just as I'm starting to get anxious, Emerege emerges, flanked by Peackeepers. Suddenly, A deep voice echoes around the hallway. "District 11, Female, Deutzia Ire."

I look around wildly for a source of comfort. Calla and Coxcomb, the remaining tributes, are staring at the walls in stony silence. But I'm rewarded with a reassuring grin from Emerege and a steady,"It's not that bad, Deut. Just do your best. That's enough." Then a Peacekeeper grips his wrists and leads him out of the hallway.

I walk into the room. The training center is all mine, at last. "What do I do?" I wonder. I automaticly go to the rope course. I scrounge a timer from the fire-making station and set it.

I'm off, scurrying like a squirral looking for nuts. "Left, right, left, right," I tell myself. As I finish the course, I drop down and stop the timer. "Four minutes and thirty two seconds!" I declare proudly, hoping the Gamemakers will be impressed.

But all they're doing is drinking and laughing. They didn't even notice me. I glare at them, but the don't notice.

I have to do something to get their attention. I walk over to the fire station and succesfully light a small fire with matches. After all, I'm working against time. I fan the flames and let the smoke billow, attracting only a few Gamemakers. I bite my lip, exasperated.

Apparently, fire and rope climbing aren't enough for them. I feel my stomach flip as I head towards the spearing section, praying there's no such thing a beginner's luck and that spearing is my secret talent. I take a deep breath, just like two days ago. I extend my arm and let the spear fly.

I gasp as I realize beginner's luck IS real. The spear has veered slightly to the left and it's embedded in the floor. I feel my face burn as I try in vain to yank it out. I should have practiced more! And of course, the Gamemakers choose this moment to mark me.

I remember knife throwing from this morning. I try to imitate Vaiynne's sharp throw, and I pick up a knife, encouraged. I take a deep breath. My entire life depends on this. If I don't do this, I don't get a good score. If I don't get a good score, I lose the Games. If I lose the Games, I die.

I don't want to die!

I will myself to try hard. Then I toss the knife as hard as I can. I fling open my eyes, which I shut to spare myself shock. And I see the knife clattering to the floor in defeat. It missed the dummy and hit the ground.

I feel like screaming in frustration. Why couldn't I have done well? I've done all this before. It's the pressure. I'm dismissed, and I shut myself in my bedroom, blocking out the rest of the world. Even though they will all see my horrific score tonight.

Neeshalla comes to get me for dinner and I feel like I have to join to be polite. I can't finish my beef stew, and Emerege is silent too. Although he couldn't possibly have done worse than me.

After we finish our ice cream for dessert, we all crowd onto the couch. EVERYONE. Ilanna, Cramer, Crystal, Marisol, Dorian, Hollan, Dimaona, Neeshalla, Emerege and I. Plus Emerge's prep team. That makes 13 people. Thak goodness for the Avox, who wheeled in another couch.

Darcy Coddins starts off the evening with a few light jokes. "Alright, ladies and gents, boys and girls, citizens of Panem... let the Training Scores... BEGIN!"

First up are Cream and Silk. They each snagged a nine out of twelve. I feel my heart turn to stone as I realize they'll brand me as weak.

"FANTASTIC scores for Cream Horan and Silk Traina of District 1, I wonder how they managed that?"

Stupid Darcy Coddins. It's clear all they've done is train, train, train, for their whole lives. And he's got to realize that, it's been going on right under his nose.

But then again, the whole of the Capitol does that.

Districts 2,3,and4 breeze by. Expected scores for the Careers. Alo gets a ten and Coriander earns an 8. Odin manages a 9, and his district partner gets a seven.

In District 3, Emso gets a five and seems even surlier in the picture. But somehow, weak Lilac obtained a 6. I can't help but wonder what she could have possibly done.

I'm on the edge of my seat when District 5 is called. Hoyan , the one who Frostine doesn't care about, recieved a 4. I wonder how she's feeling.

If Emerege managed a high score, I would be happy. But Frostine wouldn't. That's just another difference between us.

I hold my breath as Frostine flashes up on the screen. Then they project her score- I gasp. It's an 8!

I feel like cartwheeling. But of course, I can't let my alliance with her show. So I settle for a small grin. She got higher than a Career! How did she possibly do that? That's got to be the highest score a 12 year old has ever gotten.

Theta, the midget from six, gets the lowest score of all, three. Her district partner, Majoris, gets a six. It's funny how he's five years younger than her.

In my mind, seven is another Career district, minus the male. Damia is a monster! Her partner, Forlin Corset, gets a seven, which is high for a fourteen year old. But she earns a nine. I shiver. She's creeping me out.

The pair from 8 each get fives. The girl, Parrie, seems disappointed, but Jardic, the male, actually looks relieved. Or maybe he's just relieved to get this over with.

Nine. The boy, Wymonni, recieves a four, and the love-struck girl, Karmina, gets a five. A lot of fives in this bunch.

In Ten, Frostine's words about the girl echo in my head. "It won't take much to break her." I will this district to go as fast as possible. And I get my wish. Nothing truly remarkable. Frocker Jennedy gets a six, and Maybeth Arlin ties with Theta for lowest score, three. Even though I don't want to admit it, it doesn't seem like she's a real competitor.

Then I'm wishing I didn't pray for that one to fly by, because now it's us. I glup and stare at the screen blankly.

"In district 11, Emerge Course earned a ... " I hold my breath. "Seven."

I whoop and slap him a high five. I feel so ecstatic I forget what is coming next. My blood runs cold when I remember.

"Also from district 11, Deutzia Ire..." I'm panting. My whole life is on the line and I can't think straight.

"Four."

My heart sinks and settles somewhere around my ankles. "Four?" I whiper in disbelief. How could this happen?

Then I remember. "It's not my fault!" I yell. I'm so loud I've drowned out the sounds of the 12 scores but I couldn't care less. "I did perfectly good and they JUDGED me based on one or two failures! I went across the ropes and lit a fire and they did nothing about it because they were drunk and not paying attention!"

Marisol crosses the room and places her hand on her shoulder. "I believe you, Deutzia," she promises. She's smiling sadly but I am spitting mad. "Well, can we do anything about it?" I shout.

Dimaona shakes her head. "I am so, so sorry, Deutz. I really am, but the Gamemaker's minds are made up. And the rules are very strict for the days leading up to the Games. Oh, Deutzia, I'm really sorry."

Her words mean nothing to me. I sigh and retreat to my room.

It's well after eleven when I hear the knock. I'm too spooked by the four to sleep. I call,"Come on in."

Marisol enters, draped in a blanket. "Deutzia, can we talk?" she begs.

"I guess." I shrug.

She sits on the edge of the bed. "Let me tell you a story," she begins. "Nineteen years ago, a young boy from Nine seemed to have no talent at all. His training score was two. But in the arena, he showed stregnth never showed before. And because of the surprise, he won."

I slump. "But I don't have any hidden stregnths."

"You do," Marisol corrects. "You showed the Gamemekers all you've got. And they didn't see it. And because of that, all of Panem didn't see it."

I nod. Her words are starting to make sense.

She gets up to leave. But at the door, she pauses, her hand on the knob. "Remember, Deutzia," she says finally. "Nothing's impossible."

Then she's gone.

Maybe she's right. I can defy all odds and I can win. Then a new, scary thought enters my brain.

Nothing's impossible. Maybe the revolution can happen.

**Hi, it's Cassie! Please R&R if you liked it! Danny Barefoot got the last question right, it was Prim's untucked shirt. New trivia question...**

**What was the boy from 10's interview angle?**


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